


Not Obsolete

by theunknownfate



Category: Watchmen
Genre: F/F, Gen, Ghost Stories, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:33:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theunknownfate/pseuds/theunknownfate
Summary: Written for the kinkmeme four years ago. The prompt was:Following all their deaths the Minutemen feel ignored and forgotten. They all come back from the dead to show the world and the young 'uns that they still kick ass.





	1. Dollar Bill

It had been the first bank robbery in thirty eight years. It was an inside job, a team of three security guards had realized that they were the only ones with guns in the building and decided to take advantage of that. It had still gone badly, shots had been fired, a teller was hurt, and the three had turned to run out the antique revolving door. The door hadn't budged. 

In rising panic as the alarms went off and the sirens grew closer, the three tried to force the door to turn. One of them looked up to see a tall figure in blue holding the door. He had thought it was a cop and opened fire. There had been blood on the stranger's face, the glass had cracked and splintered, the man had disappeared, but the door hadn't opened until the police did show up. 

Most of the tellers had been taking cover, or trying to help their injured colleague and hadn't seen anything. The police thought they were the ones being shot at and fired back. One of the three was killed at the scene and the other two gave up quickly after that. 

*

That same night, a man caught up with a wife who had left him at a cheap hotel near the docks. She ran from him, but he was faster. Restraining orders hadn't stopped him. Her screams certainly didn't. He was a big man and used to getting his own way in everything. Being defied had sent him into a fury and he unleashed it on the woman who had dared. 

If anyone saw what was going on, they knew better than to intervene. No one came to help. He was bellowing that when he was done with her, he would find their kids. The alley stayed empty. He was hitting her with all the power he had. She was curling into a ball trying to shield her already-broken face with her hands. He caught a glimpse of her eye between her fingers and was pulling back to punch it all the way into her skull when a grip like cold iron fastened on his forearm. 

He turned with a roar to confront whoever had the nerve to try to stop him. Nothing was there except for the force around his arm. He spun to jerk his arm free and take a wild swing with his other arm. That one was seized too. He was pinned. No matter how he wrenched and kicked to get loose, he was held tight. 

Anger was fast becoming fear. As he struggled, the shadows in the dirty alley thickened and darkened. A shape formed out of it, huge, bigger even than him. The cold grip suddenly began to burn, searing the shape of strong fingers into his skin. He screamed and the roiling black shape seemed to solidify a little more, looming over him and dragging him off his feet. 

He was no longer aware of his wife staggering away. The pain in his arms, the smell of his own flesh burning, and the relentless strength lifting him away from the ground had him screaming higher than she had. The looming darkness jerked him closer. It had eyes in it, he realized, empty slits in the darkness that narrowed at him.

_Hurensohn_ , something hissed in his ear and then he was thrown, flung like a rag doll, like he weighed nothing. He smacked into a brick wall with the wet crunch of bones breaking and didn't get up again.


	2. Captain Metropolis

All the two bodies had in common was they were both homeless and beaten to death. It was a big city. These things happened. Then, a third was found. This one had military tattoos, and research showed that the first two had also been veterans. 

It could be coincidence. If the forensics team had struggled to find out who the men were, it was unlikely that they had been targeted for their military background. Still, someone was killing homeless men and there wasn't a lot the police could do. They put the word out to shelters, to get inside, to not go out alone if possible. They didn't know what exactly to warn against, and if they had seen the carload of college students cruising the streets, they wouldn't have suspected. 

The kids were home for a holiday weekend and strutting around in one of their big brother's car. They had cleats and ball bats and were out late looking for fun. They all had rich parents, doctors and lawyers and minor politicians. All five of them were self-assured and laughing as they drove into darker parts of town.

They loved this. They had to behave their whole lives, smiling for parents they wanted money from, apologizing to girlfriends they would rather rape, sucking up to teachers they would've punched. They didn't have to do any of that when they were out together. Young, strong, and untouchable, they didn't have to answer to anyone. They were free.

So when they found the old man under the overpass, they pulled over. His eyes were wary. He didn't speak as they got out, but he shifted like a cat about to pounce or bolt. They fanned out to block him. He was cornered. They laughed, swinging the bats loosely in their fists. 

"Look at what we have here," they said, smacking the bats into their palms. "We could smell you from the interstate." They were in perfect sync, like a hunting pack.

"Still got your tags," they said, boyish grins going feral. "Shoulda died over there if this is all you were going to do with your life."

Behind them, the big brother's car squealed as the roof folded inwards. The boys spun to see what had hit them, but the street was still empty. The windshield spiderwebbed, then shattered. While the boys gaped, the tires exploded one after the other. The engine burst into flames, sending fire to the underside of the overpass.

The homeless man was gone and the street was black as midnight in each direction. No streetlights, no neon, no distant windows. The only light left in the whole world was the burning car.

"What?!" screamed one."WHAT?!" He grabbed at his closest friend and was shoved away and sworn at. He lashed back in his fear and a third screamed at them both to stop it, damn it, it wasn't happening. They weren't a pack anymore. They were scared and scrambling. 

"Where is that guy?" One was holding onto anger.

"My brother is going to kill me!" wailed the driver. 

"Shut up!" screamed the third again. "SHUTUPSHUTUP!" The driver tried to grab his arm and he swung the bat. It smashed the driver's temple and he collapsed to the pavement. The others all stared, silent and bug-eyed. The killer looked around at all of them.

In that terrible hush, they all heard it. Somewhere out in the darkness, foot steps were approaching. It sounded like boots, slow, steady, and inevitable as guilt. It sounded like authority. 

"You can't- you can't-" sputtered one. 

"STOP IT!" the third roared. "IT WAS YOU TOO! YOU DID IT TOO!"

"Not that!" He pointed at their dead friend. "You did that!"

"SHUT UP!" 

"OR WHAT?" There was a shove and a stagger and the bat swung again. This time it hit the boy's jaw and sent him sprawling. The first pounded him with the bat, swinging it with both hands. The others tried to stop him and he turned on them. He broke one of his friend's arms and smashed in another one's nose. The last one had managed to hit him back and only drove him crazier. He beat them all in turn until he was exhausted and sobbing and covered in their blood. 

The steps were still coming and he whirled to face it. He smoothed a hand over his hair to look presentable. The figure was a man who struck a sharp military salute towards the street. He had no head. The boy screamed and the dark cleared. A police car was there and the homeless man was pointing at him from a phone booth.


	3. Silhouette

He had followed the woman after she had turned him down. Saying no right away was customary. A girl liked to know a guy was serious about her. He understood that. Persistence was the key. If he was pushed away, he pushed back, just enough to remind her that he was a man and she was a woman. This one hadn't appreciated it. She had had some kind of bitch attack and told him to leave her alone. Loudly. In front of everybody. 

It smoldered, but he decided he would do the gentlemanly thing and let her have her moment. He backed down and watched what she drank and when she got a call and left, he followed. If he could catch her alone, with nobody for her to show off for or impress, it would be different. Before he could get to her though, another girl met her at the corner. They kissed in greeting and walked off holding hands, fingers tightly laced. 

So that's how it was. Well, he could fix that. He could fix both of them. So he put up his hood and stayed a block behind them. They didn't hail a cab, so they must live nearby. Sure enough, they hopped up the stairs at an apartment building. They kissed again at the door. He saw fingers tighten on the curve of an ass and heard the breathless chuckle as they went inside. It just about made him sick at how unfair it was. 

He waited for someone else to come so he could follow them in, but then he saw a light come on in a second floor window. That was probably them. There was a fire escape and a gas valve. He could get there. And he did. He had been locked out enough times for coming home past curfew to know how to get a window lock open and soon he was standing in their living room. 

He could hear the shower running and the faint sounds of conversation. They were in there together and he imagined it for a moment. He was going to enjoy this. So were they. He gave himself a rub through his pants and started down the dark hall. 

A woman was there and he stopped. She was facing away from him, but he could tell that she was mostly naked except for some gloves and a riding crop. Holy God, this kept getting better. Three of them. He went from half-hard to a full throb. 

She looked over her shoulder at him and she was gorgeous. Her haircut was severe and her expression was cold, but he bet he could change it. She turned all the way and the lust curdled into something nauseous. Her belly had been slashed open and stab wounds gaped over her breasts and ribcage. Blood and entrails dripped from each of them. 

She glared at him, eyes black and baleful. He was freezing now, arousal shriveled away from horror and the unnatural cold. He couldn't breathe. It felt like his breath was being sucked out of him into all those bloody holes. She pointed at him and hissed a single syllable. 

_"You…"_

"No!" he was stumbling away from her. "Not me! No!" Her mask-like face split into a rictus of heart-eating rage. "No!" he screamed again and he turned and ran. He crashed into a lamp and tripped over a coffee table. He lunged for the window and fell. It was just the second floor, but he went headfirst and his neck crumbled inwards toward his ribs. He was dead before the bathroom door opened to see what the noise was.


	4. Manhattan, Silk Spectre, Comedian, Nite Owl, Rorschach

Jon hadn't let Laurie intervene when the bank alarm had gone off. It was the first time she had ever seen him look, well, befuddled. 

"What?" she asked, eyebrows sinking in unconscious imitation of his expression. 

"Anomaly," he said. "The bank is always robbed, but that has never happened before."

"What hasn't?"

"It is happening," he said, looking back over the city as if he could feel other anomalies popping up like daisies. "But… it hasn't happened before."

"Is," Laurie started. "That bad?" He didn't have to answer because her attention was snared by the sound of gunshots. He answered anyway as she sprinted towards where the police were returning fire.

"It could be for the best."

* 

Across town, the Comedian found the enforcer in a broken heap. It looked like David "the Dog" Gilles had been hit by a truck except for the burns on his arms. The Dog was bigger than Comedian, wider anyway. Something had bounced him off the side of a wall hard enough to make him splatter and the whole thing felt weird and sinister. 

He felt it in the air. It would pass for humidity, but there was a seething something under it, barely restrained. That in itself wouldn't raise the hair on his neck. It was the eerie way it felt familiar, as if it had threatened him before. 

He saw flashing lights a street over and went to check it out. It was nothing. A woman had been mugged. The creep had beaten the shit out of her too. She was a redhead, he noticed, and got out of there before she could remind him of Sally. Some ice and stitches and she'd be fine. He felt a throb in his own nose. Sympathy pain, he decided and hurried away. 

*

Nite Owl had been patrolling in Archie when he saw all the lights at the overpass exit. He listened in on the radio to see if they needed him to make an appearance. From the sound of it, there had been a fight, maybe gang related. Two kids were definitely dead. One wasn't long for the world, and one might make it if the stars were aligned. The good news was that they had the kid who had done it. 

He was the son of a prominent lawyer, lucky for him. Dan winced at the sound of the kid screaming that it hadn't been just him. They had all done it. At least the police had caught him before Rorschach had. He swung low over the scene and saw a badly damaged car. From the top, he could see the words Divide and Conquer scratched into what was left of the paint job.

It made him think of Captain Metropolis. He had been full of strategies. Too bad he had taken them to the grave with him, even if he hadn't taken his head. Such grim thoughts reminded him of his partner again and he set off to see if Rorschach was tired of patrolling alone. 

*

There wasn't anything for Rorschach to do when he got to the scene. Some idiot had taken a fall breaking into an apartment and killed himself. The girls who lived there were in bathrobes, clutching each others arms. They seemed genuinely frightened, especially when one of them recognized the body. It was someone who had propositioned her earlier that night. 

He had followed her. Just as well that he had died then, Rorschach mused. Before someone got hurt. That made both of the girls flinch and one of them cry and he had told them curtly how to fix their window so it couldn't be forced again. Making the cryer write it down helped her to get hold of herself and she promised she would do it. 

Once that was done, there was no reason to stay. He started off again, ill at ease at the way the shadows flickered around him. His own shadow didn't look quite right against the wall either. He saw Archie pass by overhead and hurried to get to where he could be seen from above.


	5. Chapter 5

Word of it must have made it up the coast, because a few days later, a thin old man crept carefully into the bank. Security kept an eye on him. He didn't seem threatening. They were more concerned on who they would have to call to come get the old codger if he didn't remember why he had come or where to go from there. 

One of the account advisers finally went out to ask him, slowly and loudly, if he had been helped. He had pulled the corners of his lips up in a sad, sad smile.

"I'm meeting someone," he said. "Do you mind if I sit?"

She faltered, but didn't have the heart to say no. He pulled one of the waiting chairs over near the door and settled down on it. He didn't bother anybody, but he did keep glancing at the door as if he expected to see someone coming in. The manager had an elderly grandfather at home and declared that he could sit there as long as he didn't make a disturbance. If no one had come for him by closing time, then they would call someone to collect him. 

The old man didn't make any fuss. He just sat there, watching the repairs on the old revolving door so hopefully that even the staff who thought he must be senile hoped someone he knew would come in. A few were angry on his behalf, muttering that somebody should've been taking care of him. He sat so quietly that they got back to their work and forgot about him.

No one was watching when he finally jerked a little and leaned forward to whisper.

"There you are," he said, reaching out a hand. "Why didn't you ever come to me? Are you trapped? Don't be trapped. Come with me. I'm trapped too, but if you come with me, we can be trapped together. It won't be so bad if you're with me."

The repairmen both gave him a look, but went on with their work. 

"Why do you stay?" he asked next. "What keeps you here?" He crowded into the doorway, eyes busy over all the workings. 

"Sir," one of the workers grated. The damn door was driving him crazy and he had just enough manners left to sound really irritated. "Can we help you somehow?"

"That," the old man said, pointing at the seam in the tiles. "I need that." They both looked and there was a penny stuck in the crack. It had probably been there fifty years, since that was the last time the door had been removed from the frame. They dug it out and he snatched it before they could even wipe off the crusty stain on it. 

"That's all that's left of you, isn't it?" the old man told the penny. "If I take it with me, maybe you can come too." Clutching the penny like it was precious, the old man hurried out. The repairmen sighed and got back to work. You didn't last long in this town without being able to deal with weird, after all, and the last few days had been doozies.


End file.
